


Born

by WroughtBetwixt



Series: JohnWard Prompts [21]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fear, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Late Night Conversations, M/M, Magical Artifacts, Past Child Abuse, Phone Calls & Telephones, Survivor Guilt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-03
Updated: 2014-10-03
Packaged: 2018-02-19 17:02:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2396039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WroughtBetwixt/pseuds/WroughtBetwixt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>These were always the calls John feared to get.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Born

_VRRR._  
  
John sat up in bed, rubbing his eyes as his personal cellphone vibrated. He glanced at the time; it was 4:35 in the morning. Never a good sign. “Grant?” he asked as he picked up, voice sleep-groggy. “You okay?”  
  
“Maybe I was just born wrong.”  
  
He was awake immediately. “Where are you, Grant?”  
  
“The Bus. We’re in the air. I’m...” There was a strangled wreck of a sob. “I can’t do this.”  
  
In the back of his mind, John wondered what Grant was referring to. It could be any number of things. Taking  a breath, he tried to find some sort of words that were calming while thinking if there was any way he could get to the Bus without it being suspicious. “Grant, you can do this. You’re strong, and you’re incredibly capable. You’re a survivor,  Grant, in so many ways. I just need you to hang in there, alright?”  
  
Grant was crying. “I wish I hadn’t. I wish I hadn’t.”  
  
“Wish you hadn’t what, kid?”  
  
“Survived.”  
  
John felt his blood go cold. Fuck. “Grant, I need you to tell me what’s going on. That’s an order.”  
  
“There was an 084. A staff. I touched it, and I... I remembered things. I should have died John, not him. It should have been me. It was my fault he died.”  
  
“Sweetheart...” John closed his eyes a moment. Grant’s little brother, who had drowned when his older brother had forced Grant to push the child down a well. “I want you to listen to me carefully. Are you listening?”  
  
A shaky intake of air. “Yes.”  
  
“What happened was not your fault. Your parents, your older brother? They’re the ones to blame, Grant. They’re the ones who did wrong. I know it’s painful, and it’s hard to accept, but you were a child, Grant. You were under siege. It was war. Follow?”  
  
“It was war,” Grant echoed. It seemed as if something had clicked. “We were prisoners.”  
  
“Exactly. Do you understand?”  
  
“I...” There was a crack in his voice, but then it was stronger, more sure. “I understand, sir.”  
  
John’s voice softened. “Is someone there keeping an eye on you, kid?”  
  
“Skye,” he mumbled in reply. “Skye does.”  
  
“I want you to make sure you talk to Skye, okay? Get some sleep, and go talk to Skye in the morning. Can you do that, until I can get there?”  
  
“Yes, sir.”   
  
“Alright. Hang in there. It’s not going to be much longer.”  
  
There was a long pause. When Grant spoke next, he just sounded tired; whatever had caused this, it was passing. “Thank you, John.”  
  
The line clicked, and John rubbed his face as he set down the phone. Going back to sleep wasn’t an option. He got out of bed, threw on clothes and headed down to the training room. No one would be there for another hour, at least. He needed to punch something, needed to break something, and the Ward family wasn’t available.  
  
Yet.


End file.
